<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the lines we cross by cassleia</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586580">the lines we cross</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassleia/pseuds/cassleia'>cassleia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Leia: I'm not going to say you're wrong- but you're wrong, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope, Rebellion: everyone from Scarif died, everyone thinks Leia is crazy but she's Not, look they all have trauma okay, reduced age gap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:54:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26586580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassleia/pseuds/cassleia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Scarif battle, Cassian Andor wakes up on Ryloth- he isn't sure he was meant to wake up at all, but he has. With the Rebellion moved on and lost to him, what he has to work with is a haphazard crew and his convictions. Official Rebellion or not, the work doesn't end. The weight of worlds has always rested on the shoulders of those willing to make a difference. </p><p>Elsewhere in the galaxy, Leia Organa has the weight of worlds on her shoulders in quite a different way. Mourning her people was expected, but she finds herself mourning for a man who had been her what-if, her almost, maybe. Or, she would be if she could convince herself he was dead.</p><p>Crossing galaxies to get to one another has never felt quite so real.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassian Andor &amp; Jyn Erso &amp; Bodhi Rook, Cassian Andor &amp; Jyn Erso &amp; Chirrut Îmwe &amp; Baze Malbus &amp; Bodhi Rook, Cassian Andor/Leia Organa, Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the lines we cross</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cassian came back to a world of blinding light. They weren’t dead. It was the first thought Cassian had as he slowly came to. They weren’t dead. Or at least he wasn’t, the pain solidified that. His memories of the events that led up to this point were slightly hazy after falling from the data tower. The all-encompassing pain hadn’t allowed for much else. </p><p>Things began to hit him one after the other. He didn’t know where here was. He didn’t know who had survived if anyone. He could be in the hands of the Empire for all he knew. He didn’t know which karking way was up. </p><p>He attempted to look around, suddenly aware that he couldn’t move. In his line of work, Cassian was used to at least being in control of his own actions, though he’d long since known he couldn’t control those of others. There were a countless number of places they, no,  —he— could be, the view of the ceiling and the sterile white light of the room did nothing to diminish the possibilities. </p><p>Slowly he began to take stock of what was around him. There wasn’t much to catalog, he could hear the bustling of what he assumed was a medbay, but even that didn’t take away the possibility that he was still in the hands of the Empire.</p><p>Cassian took a breath, he’d been trained on this. Assess immediate threats, reveal no information until there is certain ground to stand on, establish your own weaknesses. The pounding in his head, a rhythmic wave, the only company in these dire moments.</p><p>A hand came into view, the brilliantly blue skin discounting the idea that it was a human, and in turn, significantly lessening the possibilities of this being the Empire. “Don’t try to move too much. You had a neck injury, we’ve been stabilizing it. Do you understand?” the voice asked, in heavily accented Basic. </p><p>“Yes,”  he replied, his voice hoarse from disuse. If they’d been treating his injuries they were most likely allies, unless this were an effort to extract information on the Rebellion, in which case they were out of luck. Cassian would die before giving up the Rebellion, he’d made that assessment long ago. </p><p>Briefly, he wished he had K-2’s processing power, the droid would be able to give him certain probabilities with an accuracy that human minds did not possess. But droids did not know spontaneity, did not know the breadth of emotion it took to build oneself up from the ashes of a former self. </p><p>“You’ve been out for quite some time, you’ll have to take it slow for a while, but you’re lucky, Captain Andor. If you had landed any worse you might not have walked again,” the person said matter-of-factly. </p><p>Quite some time. The words hit him like a railspeeder. The longer it had been the slimmer his chances of finding the Rebellion. He was an adept tracker, but if he were able to locate them after any length of time it would be indicative of a deep security risk. He pushes the thought of not walking again from his mind, it isn’t a possibility he can afford to consider at the moment. </p><p>Familiar faces flashed in his mind. Bodhi. Jyn. Chirrut. Baze. Where were they? Would he endanger them by asking? This concern was, of course, only needed if they had survived Scarif at all. He thought Jyn had, but couldn’t be sure of the others. These people clearly knew him by name, at least one of them, there were few groups he could think of that might.</p><p>As disconcerting as hearing his own name from the lips of a stranger is, it is reassuring in that he is certain his covers have yet to be blown. </p><p>He wants to ask, but he is suddenly being sat up. His eyes instinctively close, an attempt to wave off nausea that sets in at the sudden movement. “Where am I?” he asks. It is the first priority that will tell him how to move on.</p><p>He could make a guess, his approximations have a tendency of being correct, but he isn’t prepared for the fallout of an incorrect move. </p><p>There is a burning in his throat, a cry for attention from his body that he refuses to address. He is already forced to take so much, and asking for anything that can expose him to more harm is outside the realm of possibilities. In a way, the burn calms him, the physical sensation is a reminder that he is alive, though he isn’t yet sure how much of a comfort that should be. </p><p>“Somewhere the Empire won’t find you,” is the decisive response. Now that he has a full view of his aid’s turned back, he can read the agitation in their lekku. Ryloth is the most reasonable explanation, though Alliance credentials wouldn’t get one far here. Out of anywhere, he can understand why they have gone their own way. </p><p>Ryloth is scores better than any of the places that had crossed his mind previously. </p><p>K-2’s propensity to plan for any disaster had clearly worked in his favor. Cassian had once called the programming of an extensive list of flight coordinates paranoid, but it just might have been what had saved his life. One final gift from his old friend.</p><p>A sharp pang rings through his heart at the thought of the droid. Out of anyone he can be almost certain that he hadn’t survived. </p><p>He is shaken from his thoughts when they speak up again. “My name is Lyze, not that you asked.” The frustrated mutter of <i>alliance scum<i> might have been amusing in another circumstance.  </i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian nods, rolling the name around in his mind. Now that he is not in immediate danger, a million burning questions fill his mind. “What happened to my crew?” He almost doesn’t want to ask, the chance of the answer being devastating is too high. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian has long since earned to prepare for the worst, even as he cannot stop himself from hoping for a different outcome. Some thought hope a fool's emotion, but Cassian knew better. It took a far braver person to keep hope alive in the darkest times. Cynicism was a safe choice, but a choice that didn't give you the push to better a galaxy in turmoil. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The long silence fills him with dread. He can’t read Lyze well yet, and the pounding in his head does not help. The more time passes, the worse the pain gets, not only in his head, but spreading through his core. It only affirms the idea that he has been on heavy pain medication. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“There were four others on the ship that entered our atmosphere. All are currently alive” they say carefully. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>There is a flood of relief, followed by a surge in anxiety. Alive didn’t mean well, he knew that better than anybody. The care with which the words had been chosen doesn’t escape him. ‘All are currently alive’ didn’t imply much good about their status.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He nods, regretting the movement immediately. “I need to see for myself.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“You’re not fit to—” Lyze cuts themself off, clearly something in his expression had caused a change of heart because they nod, poking their head out the door to call for someone else. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian is helped into a transport chair, but there is a sense of unease. He had been prepared to argue, to make his case, and fight. Not having to left him on unsteady ground once more. By now, Cassian is unused to compassion without obligation, and being forced to rely on it does not sit well with him. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The cards are not in his favor, in fact, for the most part, he cannot even tell what game they are playing. It is a disconcerting measure, but there are no options. Sometimes, biding your time is an art, and it is one at which Cassian excels. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The walls rush by in a nauseating blur that likely says more about the condition of his head injury than the speed at which they are moving. Luckily, the Twi’lek medic moving him doesn’t seem keen on making conversation. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The breath of relief he lets out as Jyn’s half runs up to meet him is almost audible. He thanks anything out there for every sequence of events that had led him there.  </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>She hovers over him a moment, “I—” she shakes her head. “It’s good to see you finally awake.”</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“It’s good to see you alive,” he offers in return. And it is, the moment they had shared on Scarif, and every moment leading up to that had made him see her in a new light. She was someone he would be glad to have at his side. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Jyn nods at the medic. “I can take it from here, I won’t let him do anything idiotic.” He would be offended if he hadn’t had a history of being thoroughly scolded at the hands of Rebellion medics and Kay alike. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The medic looks her over for a moment before agreeing. “Your word, Halik,” is the last thing said before the medic disappears down the hall. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian lets out tension he wasn’t aware he’d been holding once it is just the two of them. “The others?” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>The thin lines of Jyn’s lips tell him far too much. She sighs as she brings him to an unassuming door. “You had better see for yourself. Baze is up as well, he’ll at least be glad you are.” </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian has seen people brought back from the brink of death, has dealt with blood, both his own and that of others countless times. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but what Jyn reveals is not it. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>"Captain, we've been waiting on you," he says. Baze hardly looks up from Chirrut’s side. His arm is still in a sling, but otherwise, he appears unharmed. The same cannot be said for the remaining two. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He lets out a low breath as he takes stock of the room. Chirrut lays so still that the machines at his side are the only thing indicating he is alive. Bacta has clearly done what it can there, the rest was left to chance. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>When Jyn brings him to Bodhi, the pilot who had been the catalyst of this all it is immediately clear he had paid quite the price for it. Mottled stretches of healing skin cover the exposed parts of his body, the worst of it on his left side ending in a bandaged arm that —he has to do a double-take to truly process it— ends well above the wrist. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian swallows at the presentation of one of his deep fears so close. He doesn’t realize how long he’s been silent when Jyn calls his name, eyes full of concern she doesn’t dare to voice. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“I’m fine,” he insists. There had been few times he was further from fine, but admitting that in this moment would only lead to a spiral he wasn't prepared to take at the moment. He's torn between immediately asking for all of the details he's missed and letting the moment take its natural course. Of course, he doesn't have to consider it long.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Jyn looks at him, unconvinced and thoroughly unimpressed before her face shifts to something indecipherable. “Cassian, there’s something you should know,” she says, uncharacteristically gentle as she pulls his chair to where she’s settled at Bodhi’s side. Her hand on his good knee is as heavy as an entire tauntaun, or maybe that's the pressure of his heart hammering. He can't tell the difference right now.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Cassian’s stomach drops at the words. The plans. They had to have succeeded, didn’t they? Had they lost so much for nothing? </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Baze turns to face them both at last. “Little sister,” he warns. He and Jyn have a silent conversation that Cassian might have deciphered if he had tried, but everything has happened so fast that he feels two steps behind everyone else. Finally, Baze nods, turning back to his silent vigil.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Jyn is quiet for a moment, working her jaw as if the words that were attempting to claw out of her chest were stuck there. He feels her eyes bore into his very soul when she says, “Alderaan is gone.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>